


Dante's Inferno

by Soquilii9



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M, dante's inferno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-06-02 11:55:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6565153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soquilii9/pseuds/Soquilii9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A J/C Moment</p>
<p>Based on 'Shattered'</p>
<p>DISCLAIMER: Paramount owns the characters and the premise behind Star Trek.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dante's Inferno

In the here and now:

A spacial anomaly has fractured the ship into many different time frames. Chakotay of the present meets Janeway of the past. He breaks the Temporal Prime Directive by relaying future events:

Janeway:     Doesn’t seem like my first command is shaping up like I expected.

Chakotay:   _In the middle of the journey of our life, I found myself astray in a dark wood where the straight road had been lost._

Janeway:     I didn’t know _Dante's Inferno_ was on the Maquis reading list.

Chakotay:   Actually, I borrowed your copy.

Janeway:     My fiancé gave me that book as an engagement gift; I've never lent it to anyone!

Chakotay:   Not yet. Anyway, I agree with Dante - if you always see the road ahead of you, it's not worth the trip.

Janeway:     A soldier _and_ a philosopher - your intelligence file doesn’t do you justice!

 

~~~

 

_Flashback:_

The cabinet door in her bedroom hissed slightly as it slid open. Hidden within the small compartment lay keepsakes that had accompanied her into an unintended exile, beloved souvenirs of a life she still remembered after seven long years. Priceless, for replicated duplicates could never replace them. She visited them as often as her busy schedule allowed, to prevent the memories from fading.

Here, a photo of the two of them with Molly, her beloved Irish Setter. There, a pressed, dried flower from a birthday corsage he had given her before the mission. Nestled within a box, the antique gold-and-diamond circlet, the symbol of their love, which regretfully could not be worn with her uniform. Finally, this…the volume of Dante's Inferno, his gift on the eve of their engagement.

She held it in her hand. The worn, stained cover, dog-eared and slightly uneven pages, told a story of their own - that this book had been frequently read – and well-loved. She could quote pages from it. She had never allowed anyone else to read it.

Until now.

Only this morning, as they met over breakfast, Chakotay had confided his fascination of books. His boyhood room had housed a hundred of them. His father, baffled by Chakotay’s preference to bury himself in a classical volume rather than accompany him on the hunt, had nevertheless allowed him to read. He preferred the classics, he said, and had named quite a few of his favorites, one of which she now held in her hand. She had almost suggested he replicate a book, until she remembered her order against frivolous uses of the replicators, or even the holodeck. Power was in short supply nowadays. It’s feast or famine on this trip, she thought ruefully, mainly famine. But like someone once said, man does not live by bread alone. She said nothing at the time however, and after they finished their coffee, it was back to work as usual.

Later that day, she summoned him to her quarters.

Now she closed the compartment and carried the aging volume out into her private sitting room, where Chakotay waited patiently, properly standing. She held it out and he took it in one big hand, turning it up to read the spine.

'I've never before lent this to anyone,' she said simply. ‘You may read it.’

'Thank you, Captain. This is very kind of you. I'll take good care of it.'

'Keep it as long as you like.'

It was a terse exchange. Gratefully, he nodded and turned to leave. As the door to her quarters closed, he eagerly opened the volume, thankful that his duty shift was over and he could immediately repair to his quarters to begin reading. There was an inscription on the flyleaf:

_To my darling Kathryn_

_Which of us shall be Virgil? It matters not whether you or I are mentor and protector._

_It only matters that I will be your traveling companion through life._

_I love you_

_Mark_

He glanced back at her closed door, and realized why she had never lent the book to anyone. Although she couldn’t hear him, he turned toward her door. 'Thank you, Kathryn,' he said again, whispering softly.

 

The End


End file.
